


Imshael/Michel de Chevin Drabbles

by SheenaWilde



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mafia AU, Non graphic mentions of torture, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheenaWilde/pseuds/SheenaWilde
Summary: So because of writers block, I decided to write to random prompts I found on the Internet as something to boost my creativity. I'm going to upload my drabbles here. Expect anything and everything from canon setting to modern AU.





	1. Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt](http://pin.it/7LdL_hG): Write a story that involves a countdown. Start the story at 10 and end it at 0.

10…

Michel was lying on his back on the hard, snow-covered ground and staring up at the light blue sky and the sun. He was taking in rugged breathes, every new one harder than the one before. So this was it, he thought to himself.

9…

It seemed so simple at first. Go after the demon, find him, slay him, or die in the process. He didn’t expect the Breach, the demons pouring out of it, or the Red Templars. He didn’t expect to find a small village in the harsh and cold winter of Emprise du Lion completely unprotected and on the edge of starving to death. He had to protect them, even if he wasn’t a chevalier anymore – or especially because of that.

8…

The Red Templars came every once in a while and took people, even when there was barely anyone left, they still came, they still demanded people, and there were so many of them and so few of the townsfolk… How could they protect themselves? Most of them were children and elderly people, they couldn’t fight, and the adults, they would rather go with them alive than die in front of their children, make them orphans right then and there… Michel couldn’t let it happen.

7…

Michel brought his hands to his stomach, trying to push a piece of cloth he tore from the sleeve of his coat to the bleeding wound, trying to stop the blood from rushing out, although he knew it was in vain. There might still be hope for him if he had a healer with him, but he was alone, so utterly alone, lying here in the wilderness alone where the Red Templars had left him after running a sword through him.

6…

He thought of the townsfolk. Who’s going to protect them now? Who’s going to help them? It’s not like anyone even knew that the town was in trouble, most people didn’t even know this place even existed… But these were good people, they didn’t deserve this fate, to be wiped out for power by a force they had nothing to do with.

5…

Michel thought of Imshael. He came here chasing the demon and found innocents he needed to protect and failed them. And he failed his mission. Maybe he shouldn’t have been distracted from his final goal as Imshael was his responsibility while the Inquisition was already dealing with the Red Templars. But he knew he couldn’t have looked into a mirror again if he abandoned the village…

4…

Imshael… He knew where the demon was, in the keep, well-protected by Red Templars, demons and who knows what other monsters. So close yet so out of his reach… He thought of the last time he saw the demon. He closed his eyes at the memory, embarrassment and shame forming a strange mixture in him as he thought of the demon’s lips on his own, on his neck, on his chest… He thought of the moonlight shining down on them as they made love in a forest where Michel stopped for the night, he thought of the strange scent of pine and ash surrounding Imshael…

3…

Michel laughed out loud. He was lying here, bleeding out rather quickly and all alone, and he was thinking of the one time he slept with the demon. Well… he might as well think of it, he didn’t have much time left anyway… And finally, finally he could admit to himself how much he enjoyed it. At first he felt disgust for himself for responding to Imshael’s advance but that was wiped out by lust rather quickly. Later he despised himself for desiring it to happen again and pushed these thoughts into the darkest corner of his mind and decided never to think of it again. But now, oh now he only felt regret. Regret that he had never got to experience it again. Every sane thought be damned, he wanted it, he wanted him…

2…

Just how pathetic he was, lying here, dying, and daydreaming about a demon. About making love to a demon. But this was the sad truth. He couldn’t deny it now, not when he only had a few short moments to yet live… He had to be honest to himself before he died.  
“Imshael… I love you…” he whispered weakly into the air, a faint smile forming on his lips. At least he was going to die while thinking about someone who, even if only for a short night, made him happy. Made him feel loved. Needed.

1…

So this was it. He was soon going to meet with the Maker, or whatever lay beyond the Fade. Through his blurred vision he could see Imshael’s face staring down at him and he tried reaching out for him, even if it was only a hallucination because of the blood loss.  
“Imshael…” he breathed, barely audible, and the world went black.

  


But the counter never reached zero. When Michel woke up, he was disorientated and his head was fuzzy. He tried to sit up but he felt a sharp pain shoot into his belly and collapsed back to the bed – no, a bedroll, he was lying on a bedroll, he realized. He felt weak, exhausted, his limbs were heavy and hard to move, his eyelids hard to keep open and when he tried to speak, his throat was dry and sore.

“H-hey… Anyone…” he managed to get out, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear.

He heard shuffling and as he turned his head towards the origin of the sound, he saw someone entering the tent – so he was in a tent.

It was a bald male elf and – and there was someone else closely behind him, a human woman, both of them mages, their staffs strapped to their backs immediately giving it away. The elf was dressed in rather simple clothes but the woman was wearing a flaming eye symbol and-

“In… Inquisitor?” Michel rasped out, confused, and tried to sit up, only to fall back once again as he felt another stab of pain.

“Yes, Ser Michel. But please, don’t try to sit up, you are seriously injured” the woman said in a warm, concerned tone and kneeled down beside Michel’s bedroll, the elf doing the same beside her.

“You were lucky. If we found you just a few moments later, there would have been nothing we could do…” the elf explained to him, frowning.

“B-but… How did you find me?” Michel asked because this made no sense. The Inquisition hadn’t been in Emprise du Lion, the closest they came was the Emerald Graves. How could they have found him?

“Ah, well. That’s a strange thing” the Inquisitor said and exchanged a strange look with the elf. “We barely made our first camp, this camp, not far from where our scouts have spotted signs of Red Templars when a man appeared, laid you down in front of us without a word and disappeared again. We didn’t have time to chase him because we immediately started attending to your wounds but I doubt we could have… Solas says that he appeared to be a spirit or demon of sorts…”

“Yes, by the way he just appeared and vanished, it couldn’t be a simple human, even if it looked like one” the elf – Solas, Michel remarked – explained with a musing expression. “It’s a curious case, that’s for sure. Do you have any idea what kind of spirit it could have been? I’d say compassion but those are rare.”

“No. I don’t know” Michel lied, his voice low as he stared up at the top of the tent. It was Imshael. He hadn’t imagined his face then, it had been real, he had called for him and Imshael had come and saved him…

His heart throbbed painfully at that and Michel closed his eyes, the smallest of smiles forming on his lips. So he wasn’t late with realizing what he felt after all.


	2. A game of cat and mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://pin.it/vUI3fg6): Someone walks by your table and drops a folded napkin in front of you, trying to be discreet. It's a note saying, "Get out now, while you still can."

The dinner was brilliant so far – all the courses delicious and flawless, the company was certainly impeccable, and Michel was having a great time. He had been so busy lately that he barely had time for his friends and now he was happy to spend the evening with them.

A waiter came and collected plates quickly, then a few minutes later, returned with the desserts. When he got to Michel, he put his plate in front of him with a grim expression, and discreetly dropped a folded napkin to his lap. Michel blinked up at him, surprised by this and opened his mouth to ask about this, but he met with a warning look. Then the waiter left without a word and disappeared into the kitchen. Michel stared after him, confused and surprised still, but then turned back to his friends and rejoined their conversation. After a few bites of his cake though he carefully reached down to his lap and unfolded the piece of napkin, all the while keeping a casual expression on his face. There was something written on the napkin, he noticed, and glanced down at it carefully. The text made his blood run cold.

_Get out now. While you still can._

He was here then. There was something weird about their waiter, Michel mused, about their aura, their behavior. He hadn’t thought anything of it first time round, but now he realized what it was. He must have felt the way he called on the Fade – their waiter was a mage. Who and why could have sent him to warn Michel, he had no idea, but he had to get out of here as fast as he could.

“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom” Michel said politely to his friends with a smile and stood, aiming towards the bathrooms. He hoped to the Maker there was a backdoor there where he could escape. It being the middle April, he didn’t have to think about sneaking out his coat at least.

As he approached the door to the bathrooms, he noticed another one beside it, with a sign on it saying ‘Staff only’. Michel quickly glanced around and when he was sure no one was watching, slipped out. The door led to a back corridor with several doors, one of them going back to the kitchen, and the others most probably leading to different storage rooms. But what Michel was interested in was the green light at the end of the corridor declaring ‘exit’. He sighed in relief and hurried towards, wanting to be out before being seen, before his pursuer noticed he wasn’t going to come back.

He also made a mental note to thank his boss for sending someone to warn him.

The air was chilly as Michel stepped out to an alley behind the restaurant. He looked around, quickly trying to figure out where he came out and which way was the fastest to his car. He finally decided to go right which would lead him out to the avenue that seemed to be closer to where he parked his car on the other street perpendicular to this one. He picked up the pace, nervously glancing behind his back, making sure no one followed him out of the restaurant. So far so good, he thought to himself. He passed a few smaller alleys connecting to other streets on his left, carefully eyeing every one of them.

But in the end he still wasn’t prepared when someone roughly pushed him against the wall in a dark spot.

“Trying to escape? Not nice from you, my knight” a familiar voice growled and Michel could hear the smirk before he could actually see it.

“Imshael” Michel hissed, hands shooting up to grab the arms that pinned him against the wall. Not that he could do anything against the demon’s strength, no matter how trained he was.

“Nice to see you too, Ser Michel” Imshael grinned at him, his face dangerously close to Michel’s as he looked right into his eyes. “Although I imagined this little meeting quite differently… You ruined my plans.”

“Ah, excuse me. Did you envision disemboweling me in front of my friends?” Michel snarled at the demon angrily. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a way to escape, but he didn’t dare to look away from the demon to assess their surroundings.

“Aw, how could you say that? I could never do that to you!” Imshael protested with a sneer, then seized Michel roughly by the collar of his shirt and smashed their lips together.

It was a messy, demanding kiss and the demon held control over it, there was no question about that. He bit Michel’s bottom lip, hard enough that it drew blood, and it made the man cry out in pain. Their teeth clashed together as he forced his tongue into the other’s mouth, deepening the kiss. Michel struggled for control, his hands going up to pull at the demon’s hair, and he captured Imshael’s tongue between his teeth and bit down on it in retaliation, but it only managed to get a deep groan out of the demon. He roughly slammed Michel to the wall, kissing him with more force as his hands grabbed Michel’s wrists and pinned them against the wall.

When Imshael finally pulled away, Michel was completely out of breath, gasping for air desperately. The demon grinned at him, then moved to Michel’s neck and bit down on it strongly, making sure to leave a mark. Michel hissed in pain but didn’t say or do anything.

“I’m letting you go this time because there would be no fun in ending you here” Imshael said with a smirk, then leaned to Michel’s ear. “Until next time, Ser Michel” he whispered in it, his voice low and predatory, then he stepped back and faded into the blackness of the shadows.

Michel, still breathing heavily and with a hand shooting up to touch the bite mark on his neck carefully, stared into the darkness where the demon disappeared for a few moments, numb from their encounter. Then he shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts and get himself together. He smoothed down his shirt and adjusted his blazer, and headed towards the avenue as before, as if nothing happened.

He did hope that his hands would stop trembling by the time he got to his car though.


	3. Target missed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://pin.it/kpysB4e): She pulled the knife from her chest and smiled. "Was that supposed to hurt?"
> 
> Gender in the prompt was disregarded because of the characters I wanted to work with.

Imshael pulled the knife out of his chest, dropped it on the ground and smiled at the stunned knight apprentice in front of him.

“I’m sorry, was that supposed to hurt?”

Michel didn’t know what to do. This was the first time he was sent out by the Order to hunt down someone and it had to turn out to be a demon. He gaped at the demon in front of him and slowly backed away, looking around for anything that he could use as a weapon against him. He, stupidly, didn’t bring his pistol, only another knife was hidden in his sleeve, but if the demon didn’t feel the first knife, that wouldn’t be of any use, either. Rookie mistake, he berated himself angrily, forgetting to make a plan B, to bring back-up weapons. Now he could probably say goodbye to his life.

The demon grinned at him darkly, then rushed forward, grabbing him by the throat and easily lifting him a few inch off the ground, tilting his head in curiosity as he watched him.

“Did they honestly send a newbie against me? Did you piss someone off that they want you dead?” Imshael asked musingly, looking at Michel with raised eyebrows.

“I-I don’t know, don’t t-think so…” Michel managed to get out, gasping for air. He was painfully aware of how strong the demon’s grip was on his throat. He could easily crush his neck if he wished to. “They said I was su… supposed to hunt down… a Red Templar named… Conall… They sent me… here…”

“Well, they missed it then” Imshael snorted, and lowered Michel back to the ground, although he still didn’t let go of him. “My name is Imshael, I’m a spirit of choice, and the apartment you’re standing in is mine for now. No Red Templars have ever set foot in here, although I do have certain… dealings with them. I might want to look into my boss’s motives if I were you though” Imshael added with a dark grin, then let go of his throat. “Now shoo. You have your life. I wouldn’t want to harm such a pretty face for someone else’s mistake.”

Michel grabbed his knife that lay on the ground and slid it back into its case on his belt, then quickly backed to the door, keeping his eyes on Imshael the whole time. He felt humiliated but he wasn’t an idiot – he knew he didn’t stand a chance against such a powerful demon alone, especially without any proper weapons. He would go back to the headquarters and investigate why he was sent on what easily could have been a suicide mission by Ser de Chalons, and later, when he completed his training and if Imshael was still on the loose, he’d hunt him down and get his revenge for this.

But right now he could only thank the Maker for making him meet with a demon who wasn’t completely sane.


	4. Don't bleed on my floor (Mafia AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](http://pin.it/o_1-mfw): Don't bleed on my floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a modern day Mafia Au where Michel is a detective and Imshael is the head of the Mafia.

Michel staggered out of the elevator, clutching his wounded left side with one hand, supporting himself on the wall with the other. It hurt like hell and he was losing blood but other than that, he would be alright. He didn’t want to go to a hospital though, too many questions and too far away, so he headed to the only person he, ironically, trusted and lived nearby. It was partly his fault anyway, so he wouldn’t have any right to object.

Michel managed to reach the door he needed in good time and banged on it loudly, making sure the other heard him. He leaned against the wall across from it while waiting and looked at his wound. He had bled through his shirt and blazer, and he left a trail of blood drops on the corridor as the blood seeped through his fingers. It wasn’t a deep wound but it certainly bled heavily. It was going to leave a scar, that was sure, too.

Finally, the door opened and Michel looked up to see Imshael standing in the doorway, sizing him up with an unimpressed look.

“Come in” he said and turned to go back to his apartment, leaving the door open for Michel.

He pushed himself away from the wall and staggered inside, starting to feel a little dizzy, both from the blood loss and exhaustion. He had to run across two blocks to get away from his attackers and get here, after all. He kicked the door shut behind himself and followed Imshael to the living room, stopping in the middle of the room. He didn’t want to sit on the sofa like this and bled all over the black leather. Everything in Imshael’s apartment seemed so expensive, he didn’t want to ruin anything.

“Wait here, I’ll fetch what we need” Imshael told him, not even glancing back at Michel as he walked towards the bathroom. “Don’t bleed on my floor.”

Michel smiled at him at that wryly but clutched his side harder, pressing his shirt to the wound tightly to try to stop the blood from dripping. Imshael returned shortly with his hands full of medical supplies, towels and a shirt as far Michel could tell. He put them down on the couch, spreading out a towel on it.

“Come, sit” he said and turned back to the things he brought, pulled out a trash bag and held it out for Michel. “Put your shirt and blazer in it, I’ll throw it out later. Now let me see the wound.”

Michel obeyed without a word, sitting down on the towel and quickly stripped off his bloody garments. He hissed out in pain when lifting his left hand caused the skin to stretch and pain shot into his wound. He threw his clothes into the bag as instructed, then looked at Imshael when he was ready.  
Imshael was sitting beside him on the couch and now grabbed a small towel, put some disinfectant on it, then started cleaning the wound.

“So, what happened?” he inquired but didn’t look up from what he was doing.

“Red Templars, that’s what happened” Michel grumbled angrily and hissed as the disinfectant touched his wound. “I was out to do a simple interrogation but the whole gang appeared out of nowhere. At first I couldn’t shoot, but by the time I saw the knife, it was too late, one of them had already stabbed me.”

“And why exactly did you come to me, not to a hospital?” Imshael asked, arching an eyebrow as he looked up at Michel briefly, while he finished cleaning the wound and dropped the small towel on the other, assessing the wound closer. “The cut is too big, I have to stitch you up.”

“Why? You know exactly why” Michel gave the other a hard look. “That would have meant filing an official report and you would have enjoyed if my department raided that warehouse, full of your black market dealings, right? Besides, I feel shitty enough for knowing this and not doing anything, I don’t need to be questioned about further details…” he grumbled and tried to stay still as he felt the needle pierce his side.

“So in exchange I get to play doctor with you and patch you up. Fair deal” Imshael grinned, glancing up at him briefly, then turned his attention back to stitching the wound.

They sat there in silence after that, Michel waited patiently for Imshael to finish with his wound and tried not to squirm at the sharp pain he felt every time the needle went through his skin. Imshael was done with it pretty quickly, it wasn’t a long cut. He wiped off the blood from it again, then looked up at Michel.

“We’re done. Here’s a shirt and a pair of jeans, because you got blood on your pants, too” Imshael said as he grabbed said clothes from the couch and handed them to Michel. “Go have a shower, you know your way around, and then maybe you could stay for the night…” he gave Michel a predatory grin who just rolled his eyes at that, stood up from the couch and started towards the shower.

“Or maybe you could just join me in the bathroom…” he commented with pretended nonchalance, but threw an inquiring look over his shoulder at Imshael.

Imshael just laughed at that and stood up from the sofa to follow Michel into the bathroom.


	5. Kidnapped (Mafia AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hm, to fit this Red Templars are a gang thing:  
> ' "I didn't think you would come for me..."  
> "You wound me" '  
> Just a heroic rescue in this universe too xD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this prompt from my friend [emocsibe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/emocsibe), who liked the previous chapter's mafia AU, so I wrote this for her. Enjoy! :)
> 
> Some warning just to be sure: there's some light torture and a few people dying in this chapter, but nothing too violent.

When Michel woke up, his vision was blurry and his head hurt badly. It took him a few minutes of even breathing until he could raise his head and focus on where he was and what he was seeing. He was tied to the chair he was sitting on, and he was only in his shirt and pants, all of his weapons obviously taken away from him. As he slowly looked around, careful not to do any sudden movement, he noticed that he was in a cellar of sorts. Pipes ran under the ceiling, an old, wooden set of stairs led up to a large metal door, and there was one single lightbulb hanging right in the middle of the room. He snorted at the stereotypicality, although it would have been funnier if he hadn’t been kidnapped.

The last thing he remembered was running after a suspect who didn’t like it when Michel wanted to arrest him to bring him in for further interrogation. So Michel had to chase after him through some back alleys and other nice places when he lost sight of him and was forced to give up. He turned around to go back to where he came from and reached for his phone to call in to the HQ, but then everything went dark. He knew he was in a bad neighborhood, but he didn’t expect this.

Michel tried to think it through logically – he was kidnapped, not killed, so his attackers knew him. It must have something to do with a case he was working on or had worked on, so it was either to stop the ongoing investigation or for revenge. He tried thinking through all the cases he had recently, but there was so many options, he gave up trying to find out who it could be. Instead he decided to focus on where he was. The cellar was small and basically empty, only a locker was in it beside the chair, so it couldn’t have been a warehouse, but that metal door was a serious piece, people don’t put those things as their house’s cellar door, not even in this part of the city. So it must be some small store or workshop, but definitely something abandoned. They didn’t bother to gag him, so there was no one around who could hear him if he tried to call for help. But there was nothing else in the room that could have helped him.

It took about an hour till the door opened and people came in the room. Michel looked up at them curiously, his eyes instantly searching the faces and clothes, and he found what he was searching for. Red T-shirt and a tattoo on the upper left arm, a black flaming sword with a red crystal. The Red Templars.

Oh, for…!

“Not so lively now I see, are we, detective?” one of them, the leader, obviously, grinned at him as he stopped in front of Michel. The others, two men and a woman, surrounded him, looking at him with disdainful smiles and hateful looks. One of the man was the one he had chased after earlier. Fuck.

Michel doubted the gang leader wanted a real answer, so he just watched him with a neutral expression and waited patiently.

“Not saying anything? Not even a question? ‘Where am I? What do ya want for me?’ Nothing?” the leader asked mockingly and grinned at Michel, who only took a deep breath to stop himself from sighing and rolling his eyes. “Are you not even curious who we are?”

“I know who you are” Michel shrugged at that, finally answering him. “I can see the gang tattoo and colors. I’ve been chasing you for a few years now.”

“Not doing a very good job, are ya?” the leader continued to grin at that and crossed his arms in front of his chest, satisfied. “We are still free but you… Now we caught you.”

“Yeah, I can tell” Michel said dryly, he couldn’t help it, it just slipped out.

“You don’t really take this situation seriously, do ya? Well, you should” the leader frowned, and a sadistic smile appeared on his face as he turned to the woman. “Hey, Lizzie, wanna make him understand how bad this situation is?”

“With pleasure, chief” the woman mirrored his smile and stepped to Michel happily. He looked up at her and waited for the hits to start coming. She raised her eyebrows at him, still smirking, then grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head backwards roughly, then punched him in the face once, twice, then again and again. He got at least a dozen punches to the face before she released him and stepped back. Michel felt blood dripping from his torn lip and took in deep breaths to keep himself from showing emotion or pain, he didn’t want to give them what they wanted.

“Much better” the gang leader said, watching Michel. “I think Lizzie got my point through. You are here because you are poking around where you shouldn’t. You see Bert there? Yeah? You not fucking gonna arrest him. Well, you might not even leave the room, but I haven’t decided on that yet. Depends on you only, pretty boy.”

“Why, what do you want me to do? Swear to the Maker that I’ll be a good boy and not come near him again? Or pinky promise it?” Michel countered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“First, you could stop fucking backtalking me!” the leader roared and nodded towards Michel, looking at the woman. She stepped to Michel obediently and punched him again, once in the face, and once his nose. It didn’t break fortunately but Michel could feel blood dripping from it. Beautiful. “Now, if ya let me, I wanna talk like real adults do…”

“You can talk to me all you want and your henchman can beat me all she wants, but you’re not going to threaten me to shut up about the case or forgot about some evidence” Michel stated firmly and looked the leader in the eye without faltering.

“Fine. If you wanna die, you’ll fucking die” the gang leader snarled angrily, and looked at the two men. “Boys, time to get the real thing into play.”

Michel snapped his head towards the men who both grinned at that, then one of them went to the locker standing in the corner and pulled out a baton. Michel took a deep breath and tried to prepare himself for what was going to come. He could have imagined better ways to die than being violently beaten to death but he couldn’t exactly pick now…

The man stepped to him and raised the baton, then hit his thigh with it. Michel squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his lower lip to keep himself from crying out it pain. Then he was hit again, now on the other leg. He took another hit, to his arm this time, then one to his side. They were going to take it slow, that was obvious. None of his bones broke as far as he could tell, so they were holding back.

Michel just braced himself for the next hit that looked like he was going to get on his leg again, looking into his torturer’s sadistic eyes with a determined look, when the metal door swung open. Everyone looked up at that, and Michel saw three men rush in, all dressed in fine, expensive suits and holding pistols. He recognized the one in the front – Imshael.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Imshael asked, outraged, as he saw Michel tied to the chair and the thug standing with the baton in front of him.

“Boss! We just captured this cop, he was messing around in our business, tryna catch Bertie and bring him in! We couldn’t let him-!” the gang leader tried to protest but Imshael shut him down.

“Kidnapping a cop? Are you serious? I don’t remember you asking me about this first! Something like this could get all of us busted, have you thought about that? You endangered everything!” Imshael snarled at him and pointed his pistol at the man.

“B-but boss, we just, just… I thought…” the man tried to search for something to defend himself but couldn’t really.

“No, I don’t think you even know what thinking is” Imshael said coldly, and Michel turned his head away before he heard the pistol go off. When he looked back, the man was lying on the ground with glassy eyes and a bloody hole on his forehead. Imshael turned to the two men standing behind him. “Get rid of the rest.”

As his hitmen did what they were commanded to do and gunned down the three other gang members, Imshael stepped to Michel, pulled out a knife from an inner pocket of his suit jacket, and cut the ties on his hands without a word, then the ones on his ankles.

“I started to think you weren’t going to come...” Michel said, rubbing his aching wrists slowly, looking up at Imshael.

“You wound me” the other grinned at him, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Michel, who accepted it gratefully, and wiped the blood off his face. “By the way, we found this upstairs. Did you happen to lose them?” he asked as he motioned for his men, and one of them handed Michel his badge, pistol and the jacket he had been wearing.

“Yeah, thanks” Michel nodded and tucked the handkerchief into his pocket, then took his things back. He slipped on his jacket, pocketed the badge and strapped his pistol back, then turned to Imshael. “Now get me out of here, please.”

“Of course” Imshael grinned, motioned for his men to go forward, then threw a hand around Michel carefully. “Hospital, police station or home?”

“In that order” Michel snorted, and Imshael laughed, then leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips.


	6. Uninvited guest (Mafia AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: what about a little domestic something? Like Michel gets home after a busy day and Imshael is waiting for him?  
> "I don't think I've given you a key."  
> "Why would I need one?"
> 
> Set in yet again the same mafia AU as the previous two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this prompt from my friend [emocsibe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/emocsibe) again. :)

It had been a busy week. They had a big showdown with a serial killer, and today was the day they had gone out to finally capture him. It had taken them two kicked down doors, a chase across the field, some fighting and Michel shooting him to get him. But then they were finally done and now, after writing some reports and getting patched up by the paramedics, he could go home. He wanted nothing more than to have a hot shower, put on his pajamas, crawl into his bed and sleep until the next morning, everything else be damned.

When he got into his apartment, he kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket quickly, then turned to go to the bathroom but froze as he saw his living room. Imshael was sitting on his couch, reading a book calmly, with a glass of red wine beside him on the coffee table, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

“What the hell?” Michel could only say this, staring at Imshael in surprise.

“Hi. I thought you’d be home sooner” Imshael looked up at him with a smile, lowered his book into his lap, and didn’t look bothered at all. “Heard about today’s catch, must’ve been tough.”

“Yeah, it was but…” Michel started, then shook his head, he wouldn’t let himself be distracted form the matter at hand. “Mind telling me what are you doing in my apartment?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home” Imshael raised an eyebrow at Michel, as if asking ‘isn’t that obvious’.

“Yeah, I see that. But I don't think I've given you a key” Michel said, annoyed, and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Why would I need one?” Imshael looked up at Michel innocently, then laughed at the other’s irritated expression. “You know I have my tools, a locked door won’t stop me. I wanted to see you today but I’ve heard about this murderer case and knew you wouldn’t come over, so I came” he shrugged, and raised his book again. “Go have a shower, I have our dinner prepared for us.”

“I’m not going anywhere today” Michel said, giving up on this topic and walked towards his bathroom. He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with this conversation – maybe he shouldn’t be dating a mafia boss if he didn’t want his boyfriend to break into his apartment.

“Who said anything about that? It’s in your kitchen.”

Michel stopped at that, took a few steps back and peeked into his small kitchen. His dining table was beautifully set for two people with a tablecloth, plates, glasses and silverware he was sure he didn’t own. He sighed and a small smile formed on his lips – if one ignored the breaking-in part, this was quite sweet. Although Michel couldn’t resist one thing.

“You didn’t cook it, did you?” he shouted back towards the living room.

“Maker, no! You are one of the few people I actually don’t want to poison!” came the answer immediately, and laughing, Michel headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

This small change of plans wasn’t going to be bad at all.


	7. Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://pin.it/81AbA1m) "Do you trust me?" - "No." - "Smart man."

It had been more than two weeks since Michel had seen another human. In the previous town he had passed he’d heard rumors of a demon lurking in the area, so he decided to follow up on it, in case it was true – in case it led him to Imshael. But that meant travelling to the other end of the forest, through the deepest part which locals avoided if they could, only merchants used it if they desperately wanted a shortcut. Michel wanted a shortcut too, so he had chosen to go through it. But ever since he had begun this journey, he had been alone. No other travelers, no merchants, no one.

Maybe this was the reason he was acting so insanely now.

After travelling for two weeks completely alone, he was sitting by the campfire one night, leaning back against a tree, with the night pleasantly cool but the fire warming him just right, and watching the stars. Although his sword was by his hand should anything happen, he tried to forget who he was and why he was here, and mused about the constellations.

His peace was broken by the sound of a twig snapping in half under a foot. He grabbed his sword and jumped to his feet, looking around. He heard a soft chuckle at that, and when he turned around, he saw Imshael standing there, watching him with a grin.

“Enjoying the silence?” the demon inquired, raising his eyebrows in an almost innocent way.

“Was, until you disturbed me” Michel growled, then without a moment hesitation, he lunged forward. Imshael moved out of his ranged, laughing, and he realized there would be no way he could get him like that. He had to figure out something. He stopped but didn’t lower his sword.

“What, got bored of it already? I thought chevaliers loved swinging around their sword” Imshael grinned at him and started walking around Michel, moving closer.

“Why did you come here?” Michel asked, ignoring the teasing on purpose, although he wanted to keep him talking, at least until he figured out what to do.

“Oh, I can’t even visit the knight who swore to hunt me down? I thought we were closer than that” Imshael said in a mock-hurt voice, putting a hand on his heart.

“Don’t you talk a little too much for a demon?” Michel asked with a sigh, although he was still searching for a way to defeat him. Imshael kept circling closer, and if he was fast enough, maybe…

“Choice. Spirit” Imshael frowned, frustration clear in his eyes and in his tone, but then continued. “And don’t be misled, there are others who are quite chatty, it merely depends on who is willing to listen to them. But yes, I’m open for a little conversation if…”

Michel didn’t let him finish, instead he quickly stretched a leg out and tried to trip the demon. He didn’t fully succeed but the demon stumbled backwards just for long enough that he could lung forward and press him against a tree, his blade at his throat.

“Do you think I’m using my sword enough now?” he asked the demon and couldn’t help but smirk a little. He managed to catch him finally, he couldn’t believe it.

“Oh, who knows... But maybe you should get a bit more creative” Imshael grinned, completely unfazed by the situation, and his tone suggestive.

“Shut up!” Michel said before the demon could continue, a slight blush tainting his cheeks. “Don’t even try to distract me or manipulate me, it won’t work!”

“Really? That’s why you are still hesitating?” Imshael asked simply, raising his eyebrows.

Michel had no answer for that. He had absolutely no reason not to just slit the demon’s throat, and yet, he still wasn’t doing it. He was just staring at Imshael, trying to find an answer for that, a logical explanation…

Maybe there wasn’t. Maybe this was a sign of his insanity.

As was also when he leaned forward and kissed him, kissed Imshael on the lips, and the demon returned it without hesitation. Michel didn’t let his grip loosen on the hilt of his sword, still holding it onto Imshael’s neck with one hand, but he let the other move down to Imshael’s shoulder, keeping the demon in place. He moaned at a clash of their tongues, when Imshael’s teeth scraped along his bottom lip, and he felt the demon gently put his hands on his elbows…

He pulled away finally, and his thoughts screamed many different things at him at once, he couldn’t decide which he should listen to. Instead, he stared at the demon, confused and out of breath, and watched as he was looking back at him with a curious expression.

“Lower your blade” Imshael said finally, his voice low and seductive, and Michel felt the hands on his arms start to gently caress him.

“No” he replied curtly, although he still didn’t know what to do. He knew what he should do, but he… he didn’t want to. He kept staring into Imshael’s eyes, watching its darkness, letting himself fall into that and… He slowly, carefully pulled away his sword from the demon’s throat, ready to finish what he started if the situation so needed. But Imshael didn’t move, just waited for him to lower his blade, then after a short hesitation, drop it to the ground.

When Michel gave up his weapon, Imshael’s hold on his arms became firm and he slowly pushed him around until it was Michel with his back against the tree. Imshael leaned close, his gaze moving down onto Michel’s lips.

“Do you trust me?”

“No” Michel answered immediately, and he felt fear creeping under his skin, although he didn’t stop the demon.

“Smart man” Imshael grinned, then leaned forward and kissed Michel.

It was in the next morning when Michel woke up alone, feeling a mix of happiness, contentment and disgust that he was affirmed in his earlier suspicion – he had to be at least a little insane.


	8. What we fight for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: After making a deal witht he Inquisitor, Imshael doesn't want to kill Michel.
> 
> "I thought I was dead, that you killed me."  
> "Oh, I wouldn't be so cruel to myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt given by the same friend as before. :3

“The deal is struck. Nice doing business, Herald of Andraste.”

Then he was off to get Michel.

To send the Inquisitor instead of him, to not even have the guts to face him… It was highly offensive and so, so below what he would have expected from Michel, especially after all this time the chevalier had spent chasing him. Had something happened to him? He was keeping a close enough watch on him, nothing should have without his permission…

He approached Sahrnia and heard the sound of fighting. Ah. Still, it was no excuse to leave him to the Inquisitor. He was angry, and oh, he was going to make Michel pay for it. He walked past a few Red Templar corpses and also saw some of the locals lying there, but he didn’t much pay attention to any of them. He had to go around the whole village to find the source of the fighting.

Michel was alone against two Red Templars, although Imshael could see Inquisition soldiers farther up. He wasn’t here to observe though – with a wave of his hand, he made the two Templars freeze on spot, confusing Michel with it. The chevalier looked around in surprise, searching for where his help came from. Then his eyes found Imshael and he visibly paled.

“Surprised, my knight?” Imshael grinned satisfied at that, and he could practically feel fear radiating from the chevalier as he moved closer to him, circling him like a predator its prey.

“I thought the Inquisitor went for you…!” Michel said in surprise and raised his sword against Imshael, although the demon could see that he didn’t mean it. Very wise – a piece of iron wasn’t going to prove useful against him.

“Oh, he did. But the Inquisitor is a wise man, much wiser than you were” Imshael grinned, trailing closer and closer to Michel, enjoying the expression of utter horror that appeared on his face following his words. “Yes, your assumption is completely right. He made a deal. No need for all those violent dealings, are there?”

“But… he should’ve killed you! He’s the Inquisitor, he’s supposed to cleanse the world from the likes of you!” Michel cried desperately but lowered his sword, resigning to his fate. “I hoped he would prove more powerful than me, but it was all in vain. Do what you came here for, demon” he finished with a determined expression and looked straight into Imshael’s eyes. Oh, now that was the Michel he knew.

“Choice. Spirit. Why can’t I make you remember that?” Imshael sighed dramatically, then quickly grabbed Michel by the throat, pulling him closer. “Good night, Ser Michel.”

Then Michel felt a stab through his heart and everything went black.  


When Michel opened his eyes, he could only see brightness at first. He blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the light. It was daylight and he was staring at a ceiling with a fancy chandelier hanging from it. He also noticed that he was lying on a bed, a quite comfortable one on that. That wasn’t right. He was in Sahrnia, he was fighting, and then Imshael came for him and… He was supposed to be dead, he remembered the knife in his heart, he could almost still feel it… He reached for his chest and found that he was still in his armor and there was no sign of a wound ever being there. He frowned at that, completely confused now, then sat up to have a look of the room where he was.

It appeared to be a chateau of sorts, although long abandoned. A fine layer of dust covered everything, a window seemed to be broken, and there were pages torn out of books laying around on the floor along with some small, useless figurines and such.

Why was he here? Why was he alive? Or was he? Michel felt like he didn’t know anything anymore.

He stood up from the bed and started walking towards the only door leading out from the room. Along the way he had found his sword propped up against the wall, obviously for him to find. Whoever brought him here, he was grateful for this. He quickly sheathed his blade, then stepped out of the room. He heard the sound of a conversation coming from what appeared to be a lounging hall down the corridor, so he followed it, hoping to find his rescuer. He was nervous – this whole situation made him uneasy, he had the feeling that he really shouldn’t be alive after what had happened and could only hope that this wasn’t some foul magic at play here…

Then he stepped into the hall and saw two men standing there. One was a Red Templar who still appeared to be fully human and the other was Imshael. Michel felt his blood run cold at the sight and his knees suddenly felt weak. Was this what waited for him after death? Was this a punishment of sorts?

The room went silent as the Red Templar seemed to notice him, and Imshael turned around to see what captured the other’s attention. At the sight of Michel, he grinned, then turned back to the Red Templar.

“That would be all for now. I’ll send for you if I need anything” Imshael said, then with a wave of his hand, made it clear that he was dismissed. The Templar saluted, then quickly left the room. “So you’re finally awake. How did you sleep?” Imshael asked as he turned his full attention to Michel and walked closer to him, making the chevalier eye him warily.

“Sleep? What has happened? Why am I here?” Michel demanded immediately, his voice firm despite how weak he felt inside.

“I made you fall asleep, then brought you here. After Suledin was claimed by the Inquisitor, I needed a new place. The Graves are warmer, anyway” Imshael shrugged simply at that, answering as if it was obvious.

“The Graves?” Michel repeated, glancing out the windows to find huge trees outside, all glowing green in the bright daylight. He shook his head quickly, reminding himself that ‘where’ wasn’t as important as ‘why’. “But why am I here? Why did you bring me along? I thought I was dead, that you killed me!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so cruel to myself” Imshael grinned again as he took another step towards him, then raised a hand, sliding it under Michel’s jaw.

“I don’t- What do you mean?” Michel asked, suddenly breathless as the demon was so close, touching him with a surprisingly gentle gesture. He had to admit that it wasn’t only the fear making it hard for him to breath.

“I prefer to keep what I want close instead of throwing it away when I can’t get it. It only takes patience and persuasion, after all, doesn’t it?” Imshael said, raising an eyebrow and leaned closer, making Michel’s breath hitch.

“I still don’t understand-”

“Oh, you do” Imshael smiled at him. “And I know you want it, too.”

Michel stared back at the demon for a few moments without a word, struggling to decide what he wanted. But in the end he realized – the battle was already lost, so it was time to give in. He leaned forward and kissed Imshael, and the demon didn’t hesitate to return it. It wasn’t guilt that washed over him as he expected but relief and joy. In that moment, in Imshael’s arms, he felt freer than ever before.


	9. In his hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt:](http://pin.it/OrXbire)He pulled against the ropes with all his might, but they wouldn’t give.  
>  “Don’t bother” a voice said. He looked up to discover a thin girl bound with the same rope. Although it was dark, he could see her bruised eye and bloody wrists. “I already tried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning just to be safe - this one contains mentions of torture.
> 
> This chapter is not romantic. It shouldn't be interpreted as such. In this universe, I cannot imagine a romantic relationship between these two.

When Michel woke up, he was lying on hard, cold stone and his hands and ankles were tightly bound together. He became alert immediately and pushed himself up to a sitting position. He didn’t know where he was and how he got here, but it was Imshael’s doing, he was sure of it. Judging by the cold, he was still in the Emprise, but it was dark in the room? cave? – he didn’t know – where he was kept. He had to try to escape before the demon came back to play with him… He pulled against the ropes with all his might, but they wouldn’t give. 

“Don’t bother” a voice said. He looked up to discover a thin girl bound with the same rope. Although it was dark, he could see her bruised eye and bloody wrists. “I already tried.”

“What’s your name? Do you remember how you got here?” Michel asked immediately. If Imshael was kidnapping and torturing innocent people to death… He had to stop him, the sooner the better.

“I’m Elodie” the girl said and pulled her legs up, curling up on herself. “And they brought me here.”

“They?” Michel asked back immediately. “Who are they?”

“Red Templars. And there was a men telling them what to do. He talked and acted like a human and told me he’s a spirit but… He had me tied with a Templar and left me here yesterday. I think it was yesterday…” she explained silently, her voice trembling. “Then they brought you in and threw you down a few hours ago. They didn’t even look at me.”

“Were you… were you alone when they brought you here? And the demon… Did the demon tell you anything?” Michel asked immediately. He needed to know what they were intending to do with the girl.

“No, nothing. I’ve been alone all this time” she said and sniffed silently. “They didn’t even give me water… I just want to go home…”

Michel’s heart clenched at that. The girl barely looked more than fourteen… He had to get themselves out of here. He looked around but saw nothing – it was too dark, there was no windows, nothing, only a lit torch and a door. They must have been in the keep in some ancient prison. This didn’t mean any good…

The minutes passed in silence as Michel tried to figure something out, to think of a way to escape. But he couldn’t even get rid of his ties, the rope must have been bound with magic because it simply didn’t loosen, no matter how he twisted his hands. He was completely helpless – he didn’t have anything on himself, only his clothes, not even his armor… There was no stone standing out of the floor or the walls as far as he could tell, no sharp edge where he could try to cut his ties.

Suddenly the door opened and a lone figure walked in – Imshael. Michel noticed how Elodie froze in fear at the sight of him, and he wanted to try to comfort her, but he didn’t have time to say anything. Imshael walked to him straight away and grinned down at him.

“We meet again, Michel” he said and leaned down to the man. “I must admit I missed you, that’s why I speeded things up and brought you here” Imshael stopped as if waiting for an answer, but Michel just stared back at him without a word. “Very well then. Up with you” he said, still grinning and grabbed Michel’s ties around his wrists and dragged him up to a standing position, then pushed the man back against the wall. “Aren’t you happy to see me too?”

“Cut it out, demon” Michel hissed, starting to get fed up with this charade. “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, nothing, just the usual. Play with you a little, see if we can make a deal, and see how that turns out…” Imshael said, and with the hand that was still holding Michel’s ties, he yanked the chevalier’s hands above his head, then grabbed a handful of his hair with the other, pulling his head backwards. “What do you say about that?”

“Go ahead. You don’t have anything you could bribe me with” Michel challenged, looking back into Imshael’s eyes without faltering.

“Really? And what about the girl?” Imshael asked with the darkest smirk Michel had ever seen, and nodded towards Elodie who was still curled up on the floor. At this she let out a large sob and turned her head away from the two of them, burying it in her arms.

“Leave her alone! I don’t know what you have planned for her, but she’s got nothing to do with us” Michel hissed angrily and felt dread spread under his skin like ice. He tried to yank his hands free, but Imshael had a strong grip on them.

“Seems like I do have something against you after all, hm?” Imshael said, self-satisfied, released Michel’s hair, and instead trailed his hand along Michel’s jaw, down his neck, then stopped on his chest. “So listen to me, Ser Michel. It only depends on you if the girl lives…”

“But-” Michel started to protest, glancing towards the girl but when his gaze met with the girl’s terrified expression, he stopped. It was only a girl, merely nearing adulthood. If this was the price… It was his duty to pay it. “Fine. What do you want from me?”

“I want to play a little” Imshael grinned at him darkly, and his hand shot up to grab Michel’s throat, squeezing, making Michel choke and gaps for air. Then just as suddenly, he let him go, watching him with the same dark expression, before he leaned to the chevalier’s neck and bit him softly, almost gently, sensually, making Michel gasp again but for an entirely different reason.

“W-what… what are you doing…?” Michel stuttered in shock, his eyes fluttering to the girl who was watching them with big, surprised eyes, then back to the demon.

“I told you. I’m playing” Imshael answered plainly, then started slowly lacing out Michel’s shirt, loosening it and pulling it off his shoulder, exposing much more skin. Michel had already had many scars crisscrossing his skin and now the demon examined them intently, trailing a finger along an especially long one. “Mhmm, I wonder how many I have caused from these. And how many I yet will.”

“Not enough, believe me” Michel snarled and watched Imshael nervously, although he didn’t do anything to stop him. Whatever Imshael had planned for him, he would take it.

“Oh, insolence. I do love this in you” the demon tilted his head to the side with a smile, then sank his nails into Michel’s soft skin on his shoulder and trailed them down, leaving four red, bleeding marks on his chest. Michel hissed silently, but didn’t show any other reaction. Then the demon leaned to the scar and kissed a trail up along it slowly, making Michel shiver at it, and licked the blood off his lips as he grinned at him. “Not that against this one, are you?”

“I… I don’t know what you are talking about” Michel replied, his voice shaking slightly, and he was nauseous, torn between pain, disgust and slight want. This was exactly what the demon wanted, he knew, to make him want this. But he wouldn’t give in to him, he wouldn’t allow himself that, he wouldn’t admit that.

“Let’s see how much you can take” Imshael grinned at Michel, his hand grabbing his throat again, and he moved closer to the chevalier with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

***

His legs gave under him the moment the hold on his hands was released and Michel slumped to the cold stones under him, completely exhausted. His scars and bruises ached, the world was spinning around him, and he felt used and humiliated. He hated how he had no control here – how he was defenseless against Imshael’s whims…

Imshael walked over to the girl and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her to her feet. Michel watched this from where he was lying on the ground and his stomach clenched in fear at the scene – he had a bad feeling about this. But he felt so weak, so shaken as never before, his limbs were heavy and tired, trembling even as he was slumped against the wall and he couldn’t move, couldn’t help her.

Imshael leaned close to Elodie, looking into her eyes, and his hand shot up to her throat as the other let go of her hair.

“Well, it was nice having you here to make our little chevalier more obedient” the demon started as his free hand pulled out a knife from his belt. Michel cried out in protest, but 

Imshael didn’t do anything to indicate he had heard him. “But that was all I could use you for. Thanks, anyway” he said nonchalantly, then with one quick movement he slit the girl’s throat, then dropped her body to the ground.

Terrified, Michel watched the scene and cursed himself and the Maker for being helpless, for not being able to help the girl in the end. Everything that had happened to him was for nothing, it only served to sate the demon’s sadistic curiosity.

“You promised to let her go! You told me that if I played along, you wouldn’t harm her!” he shouted at the demon, his voice trembling and desperate.

“Yes, you are right – I promised. We didn’t make a deal, only a promise” Imshael turned to him with a sly smirk, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “And I’m a spirit, in case you haven’t noticed. Not exactly known for keeping my promises. Now you would do both of us a favor if you fell asleep. One part of the promise I do keep – I’m not going to kill you just yet.”

Michel didn’t respond to that – he had nothing else to say. He let his head fall back against the stone wall and closed his eyes, obeying Imshael and his exhausted body’s command, and let himself fall asleep. Later, when he woke up, he was in his camp, his clothes and armor properly on him once again, and only the bruises on his body reminded him that it wasn’t only a nightmare.


	10. Wounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imshael is attacked and injured by a Pride demon. While he waits for his wounds to get better, Michel finds him.
> 
> Prompt by emocsibe:  
> Imshael is somehow injured, Michel founds him in the woods? Whether he helps him or not is up to you.  
> "You have the perfect chance to end me, so why won't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time writing Imshael's 'POV'. (Don't worry, still third person perspective.)
> 
> Oh, I really should stop with all this fluff... xD
> 
> Also, if you like my drabbles and have prompt, just throw it at me, either here or on my tumblr. :) I'd be happy to try and fill it. :)

Imshael couldn’t believe this was actually happening to him. He was sitting on the ground, back against a tree and a hand clutching his injured side. It hurt and he was angry, so angry… It was such a stupid mistake, something that could have been avoided if he… Well, if he hadn’t been thinking about the consequences, about what he was going to achieve if he could keep pretending to be a human. But he did, so now he was injured because of his own stupid insistence to keep to what he had planned. The Red Templars had been killed, too, so it was completely in vain.

A pride demon had been wandering the Graves, that had attacked them in the middle of a discussion. Imshael didn’t wanted to use his powers, it still being a secret in front of most templars, so he tried to fight as a human would, grabbing for the daggers he had been carrying with himself, mostly for show. But it was of no use. Imshael was injured almost instantly, the templars were dead in mere minutes, and he was finally able to use his powers and kill the stupid thing.

Oh, how he hated pride demons. Enormous, useless things, with no real purpose and no real power but their sheer strength. He despised them.

He sighed and leaned back against the tree. He couldn’t do much else for now, could he. It would heal slowly on its own, and later, when he was going to be able to walk again without much pain, he would go and get a human he could make a deal with and have gain some power from it. This plan had to do – he didn’t have much of a choice.

So he lay there, eyes on the crown of the trees and the sky, sometimes he looked over to the rotting corpses of the Red Templars, and just tried to will the time to go faster. He probably got lost in thoughts because next time when he heard a noise, someone was already way too close to him to be able to retreat in time. He saw a man with a sword drawn walk towards him and recognized as the last person he wanted to meet with right now – Michel de Chevin was coming towards him. He tried to stand up quickly to be in a more dignified position, but he must have moved too quickly as pain shot in his side and he fell back to the ground. Not so much dignified. He cursed the mortal world under his breath – it was so much easier in the Fade where he was in control, where he could so much more easily heal himself…

“Imshael…?” the chevalier stopped a safe distance away from him, a confused look on his face and his sword pointed forward.

“Greetings, Ser Michel” Imshael smirked at him, raising his head to look as dignified as he could manage in his current position.

“What are you doing? Is this a trap?” Michel asked, frowning and looked around as if expecting demons or other creatures to ambush him. Imshael didn’t really blame him, given their history.

“There’s no one around but me. Those who could have been rot over there” Imshael gestured toward the corpses, then hissed and clutched his side as pain shot into his side.

Michel did glance briefly towards said remains but at his sudden movement looked back towards Imshael and frowned even deeper. It was obvious how hard he was thinking about this situation, still alert and not sure of what was happening. Imshael smiled at that and watched him intently, waiting for him to get to a conclusion.

“Are… are you hurt?” Michel asked curtly in the end, looking at him with a thoughtful look.

“It’s nothing serious” Imshael answered sharply. He didn’t wish to appear weak, nor defenseless. He could still fight – not as fiercely as usually but he could still get away from Michel if he wanted. “I merely had a slightly unpleasant encounter with a pride demon.”

“That was slightly unpleasant?” Michel asked, raising an eyebrow as he pointed towards the corpses with his sword.

“What can I say? They couldn’t defend themselves” Imshael shrugged, then winced. He shouldn’t forget that moving around too much, especially with movements that involved his side, was a bad idea.

“Obviously” Michel replied dryly, then sheeted his sword and looked away from the demon, falling into deep thoughts.

Imshael kept his eyes on him, wondering what could be going through that pretty head of his that caused him to make such a conflicted expression. Maybe it went against some chevalier rule to kill an already injured enemy? Not that he would be that much weaker now than usually. Or did he just not like things being handed to him? Well, Imshael couldn’t have known, but these were his best guesses.

The thought of leaving now occurred to Imshael – he could certainly get away if he really wanted – but he didn’t feel like exerting himself with his aching side, or missing out on Michel’s struggle and final conclusion. Oh, he was curious.

“Come” Michel said finally, extending an arm towards him which confused the demon.

“Excuse me?” Imshael looked at him, genuinely confused at that.

“I… have made camp not so far from here. I could bring you there and…” Michel started weakly but didn’t finish, and consciously avoided looking at the demon.

“Are you offering help? To me?”

“I- I am. You are injured and- I mean, I can’t just leave you here and-” Michel stumbled over his words, obviously having no idea about what he wanted to say.

“Oh, I think I would be mad to refuse such an offer” Imshael interrupted him, having taken pity on him, and gave him a wolfish grin before grabbing Michel’s extended hand.

“I regretted it already” Michel rolled his eyes at the demon’s expression, relieved that the topic was dropped, and pulled him up carefully.

The camp Michel had made really wasn’t far from where they were, they only had to round a big cliff and go down a hill to get there. Imshael could walk without help, although slower than usual and with pain stabbing into his side with every second step. He could see how Michel watched him anxiously and not because he was afraid that he was lying and could attack at any moment – well, not only because of that – but because he was genuinely worried. It amused Imshael completely – and he certainly had to explore the reason.

When they arrived at the camp, Michel hurried to his package lying on the ground, took out his cloak and spread it out on the ground at the base of the rock wall, then motioned for Imshael to sit. He obeyed, sitting down slowly, trying not to hiss out in pain.

“I, uh… I can bandage it for you if you’d like” Michel started, rubbing the back of his neck, not quite knowing what to do. “I don’t know how it works with demons.”

“Not necessary” Imshael shrugged at that. He could explain Michel how things work, how it was the body’s injury and not really his, but despite all evidence, like willingly coming along with his supposed enemy while being injured, he hadn’t gone completely mad. So no, he wasn’t going to reveal that much about himself. Instead, he wanted to see how far Michel’s new-found sympathy for him went. “But it would help.”

Michel nodded, then turned back to his package and took out bandages, a rag to clear the wound, and brought a flask of water. Imshael watched as Michel unstrapped his sword, hesitated for a moment, then put it down beside himself, in arm’s reach, as he sat down next to Imshael, facing him, to attend to his wound.

“You… you need to take off your coat” Michel said finally and he was looking at the demon’s injured side, suddenly inspecting it closely.

Imshael smiled in amusement as he started stripping off his coat, quickly working his way down the button. He looked at his bloodied and torn shirt, sighing as he realized he would need a new one. He threw to the side as well and looked down at his injuries. His skin was a mix of purple and red, four long gashes tore up the flesh and it was still oozing blood. Well, it could have been worse…

“Let me see” Michel said, making Imshael look up and he saw the chevalier already holding a wet rag. He nodded and leaned back, allowing Michel close to his side and watched him work. He winced at the first touch of the cold rag on his side but didn’t say anything, only watched Michel slowly, carefully clear the wound of the blood. He obviously knew what he was doing, that much he realized in the quick and experienced movements with which he was working. When he finished cleaning the wound, he carefully traced his fingers down on it, then reached for the bandages.

Imshael waited until he wrapped it around him once before speaking.

“I have a question for you. You have the perfect chance to end me, so why won't you?”

Michel’s hands stilled for a moment and Imshael could see how he tensed up. Then he continued what he was doing in silence, his eyes fixed only at Imshael’s side, still refusing to look up.

“I… I don’t know” he whispered finally, faintly.

“Oh, you must have a reason. No one does anything without a reason, especially not you” Imshael said, and oh, he enjoyed how tense and uncomfortable Michel was, because that meant his reason was going to be fun. He leaned forward, although because of the bandaging, Michel had already had to move close to him. They had never been so close, not even during their fights – which really said something about how they usually fought – and now he could see every detail of those scars stretching on his perfect face, every emotion that ran through his eyes. He put a hand on Michel’s shoulder, slowly trailing it up to his neck. “So tell me.”

“I honestly don’t know” Michel answered quickly and refused to look up, continuing to bandage Imshael’s wound without even reacting to the touch. Well, without reacting to it with words, because the way he shivered couldn’t be missed.

“Oh, really?” Imshael smirked, satisfied with the reaction he got and hooked a finger under his chin, tilting his head up to force him to look at his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Michel.”

Now he finally had an honest reaction – all of a sudden, Michel leaned forward and kissed him fiercely. It took Imshael slightly by surprise but wasn’t unwelcome at all. He wasted no time returning the kiss, letting the chevalier pull him closer by sliding his arms around his shoulder, careful of his wounds, to not hurt him. The kiss was gentle but passionate, just what he would have imagined it would be like. Not that he had ever imagined what kissing a human, kissing Michel would be like. No, why would he? He let Michel take control of it, because that was going to be more fun, and for now, just enjoyed it.

When they pulled away, Michel was looking at him speechlessly like a lost puppy, eyes big and confused, and he couldn’t help but smile at that. Sweet, innocent Michel just kissed the demon, the enemy, and enjoyed it thoroughly. Must be hard.

“Well, this is going to make our little game all the more interesting” Imshael said finally, then leaned to Michel’s ear, whispering into it directly. “And I intend to explore this to its fullest.” Oh, he got his response, Michel closed his eyes for a moment and his whole body shivered at Imshael’s voice.

“We’ll see that” Michel replied briefly, his voice kept calm with obviously great efforts, but his tone suggested what Imshael wanted. The demon grinned and kissed him again.


	11. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michel is alone, soaked to the skin and very, very annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt by my friend again. :) Prompt is in the end notes as it spoils the whole drabble and this one is better to explore.

It was very cold. And it had been raining whole day, making Michel soak to his skin, every single cloth on his body dripping wet. He was in a very sour mood because of it and he finally found a cave that was big enough to provide him shelter for the night and nothing seemed to live in it. It was more than enough for him.

Michel quickly set about making camp there. First, he collected wood, some leaves and stones for the fire, then made his way back to the cave. He put his bag down, then stripped off his armor, the cold, hard metal of the chest plate really bothered him above his damp clothes. He made the fire pit quickly and effectively, then tried to light it. First try, nothing. Second try, still nothing. The wood, the leaves, everything was soaked through… Michel let out a frustrated sigh, then took a deep breath and tried again, bringing down the flint on the steel harder. And nothing, again.

Michel angrily threw the flint and steel down, and sat back against the wall of the cave. He needed fire, for light, for food and for heat. Mostly, heat. He would freeze overnight without fire and with his wet clothes. But the whole forest around him was dripping wet and no one lived around here, no towns or villages he could reach until sunset.  
He did have one alternative, Michel thought darkly, one alternative that would help him out right now but one that he never used. That he was taught to hide and suppress. He raised his head and looked at the sad excuse for a fire pit in front of him, contemplating his chances. He could survive the night like this, but it would be neither pleasant, nor healthy, he would surely get sick by the morning. And if it rained again the next day and after that and so on, his clothes couldn’t dry out properly and that would surely guarantee a sickness. Not to mention he was feeling utterly miserable in these clothes.

Michel sighed, mumbled a quick prayer to the Maker, and stretched out a hand towards the small heap of branches and leaves. He hoped, hoped so bad that he got this one right – it’s not like he had ever been taught anything about this. He focused on his hand and willed the strange powers inside him that he had always shut away to make fire – to make it warm, light the fire but do nothing else. To create his salvation, not his doom.

It wasn’t easy to access his power, probably because he had spent most of his life fighting it back, pushing it away so it couldn’t hurt anyone. Once it was there though, he could feel it in his body, circulating in him as if it were his blood, finally coming to his fingertips where he needed it to be, but nothing. His mind was repeating the same words again and again – a small fire, a spark, heat to dry the leaves, just a flash of small fire…

It was insane. He could feel all that power just there and it did not listen to him. He got angry, so angry at it, at this whole situation. With a frustrated groan escaping his throat, he moved to lean back against the wall in defeat when suddenly he felt the power escape from his hand and a small, happy fire started crackling in front of him. Michel started grinning at that, he was so stupidly happy for the fire, it was almost crazy. He did it, oh sweet Maker, he did it, he thought, laughing, and moved forward to make it stronger so it wouldn’t die out.

“Well, that was unexpected.” A voice came from the mouth of the cave and Michel felt his blood run cold at that.

“You- you saw that?” he asked, mortified, and slowly turned to face Imshael, desperately trying to mask his dread, although he doubted it was successful.

“Yes, I did. And let me tell you, it’s quite fascinating” Imshael grinned at him and walked closer, moving around the fire. He appeared completely dry, his clothes immaculate as ever – he obviously didn’t spend the day walking in the rain, Michel thought dryly. “You know, that wasn’t half bad” the demon mused, staring at Michel. “I’m guessing that you had no training, ever. Most people would have blown the whole cave up. Well, most people wouldn’t get this far with such a secret. They actually don’t.”

“And what do you intend to do now? I am still not agreeing to a deal with you and still can fight you” Michel said confidently, although he wasn’t so sure in himself at that moment. His thoughts were too occupied by worry over his biggest secret being discovered.

“Oh, no, now I definitely don’t want to kill you” Imshael grinned in a way that made Michel sick to his stomach. “You have just become so much more interesting…”

“I’d rather die than do anything you want. I hope you realize that.”

“I know that, you keep repeating it” Imshael rolled his eyes at that and took a few steps towards Michel who was still sitting on the ground. “I have a different idea. What if I taught you how to use your magic?”

“No” Michel refused immediately, a wave of dread washing over him again. Horrible pictures flashed through his minds, things he had seen – abominations, blood mages, blood sacrifices, the remains of an annulled Circle… If he hadn’t known any better, these memories would have surely convinced him to refuse.

“I know, I know, ‘I’m not making a deal.’ Starting to get real old, just saying” Imshael rolled his impatiently and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It’s not a deal, it’s an offer. I don’t ask for anything in return. I swear it.”

“What would you benefit from that?” Michel looked at him doubtfully, not believing a single word.

“Well, where should I start?” Imshael faked a thoughtful expression, then smirked as he started listing it. “First, there is the pain of you making the choice. Once you accept, I’d get to see you suffer from the guilt because of using magic, but then because you enjoy it. I would also have to spend a lot of time with you, which at first would fill you with fear, afraid that I might betray you, but later you would become disgusted of yourself when you realize you actually enjoy my company. Oh, and finally, a trained warrior who can also wield magic? Yes, please. I could make you into an enemy worth my while, not a puppet I like playing with.”

The demon’s grin was not a bit disturbing and his eyes were positively predatory.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. I… I don’t need training. I don’t want to be a mage” Michel whispered finally, casting his eyes down.

“What you want doesn’t matter here, you already are one, and your admirable self-control is going to slip one day” Imshael said, his voice surprisingly serious for once. “You cannot be strong every single minute until you die. One weak moment and you find yourself in the hands of some inferior demon, a mindless abomination used as they pleased” Imshael now walked up to Michel and crouched down in front of him, reaching out to tilt his chin up so he could look in his eyes. “Believe me, I am giving you the better alternative.”

Michel stared at Imshael’s eyes speechlessly, contemplating his words. He knew that if he agreed, he would unwillingly feed the demon’s power, every choice he made from then on would make Imshael stronger, but… He did need some training. He had no idea about how his power worked and he had seen mages go crazy or blow themselves up and many, many other horrible things.

So he took a deep breath and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My prompt was a mage!Michel who hides his powers, successfully, but one day Imshael somehow discovers it and offers to teach him. Michel accepts.


	12. Annoyance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roommate!AU
> 
> Michel doesn't like his roommate. He hates him, in fact.

Michel hated his roommate. He hated him ever since he had first moved in and it was mutual. They always annoyed each other, always did something that irritated the other and just by existing drove each other crazy. Every time Michel tried to study, Imshael would have friends over and they would drink and laugh loudly and distract him. Every time Michel would have a bad day and only wish for a little peace, Imshael would pick a fight over some thing or the other that was completely trivial and made no difference whatsoever. Just being around Imshael for too long drove him completely crazy and he had no idea why he hadn’t tried to switch rooms yet. He also knew that he must have a similar effect on Imshael, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. As he had previously mentioned, he hated Imshael.

And this was why what was happening to him now made no sense at all.

Imshael came back about twenty minutes ago with a man Michel had never seen before, both of them grinning widely, and after shortly acknowledging Michel’s presence, they disappeared into Imshael’s room, slamming the door shut. At first, Michel thought nothing of it and resumed to reading his book.

But then he heard a moan.

Michel almost dropped his book. He flushed bright red, he knew, and tried to forced himself to turn his attention back to his book, but then there was another moan.

It was completely normal, he knew, that Imshael would bring someone back. Like, they were in college, nobody was a virgin. Imshael certainly wasn’t, he knew, even if so far he hadn’t witnessed it firsthand. He quickly got up and rushed to grab his earplugs and phone from the counter, quickly untangling the wires as he hopped back to the sofa. He picked the first song that came up and turned it so loud it almost hurt. Then he picked up his book and continued to read.

It didn’t help. He still heard some noises he didn’t want to. He frantically pushed the volume up button on his phone but there was no louder. It shouldn’t have been possible to still hear them but he swore he did. And just to know that Imshael was there, only a wall between them, and doing those kind of things with a stranger…

Michel stood up abruptly, before he could finish that thought and threw his book onto the table as he hurried to the door, slipped on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. He had to get out of here before this newfound madness of his would go too far.

He didn’t really have anywhere to go, he realized as he left the dorm, so he headed to the only place he could think of. Celene and Briala lived not too far away, and Celene liked him enough to take pity on him and let him stay if he explained what happened. Well. He wasn’t sure what had really happened. But people usually didn’t bring one night stands home with their roommate still at home, did they? Or at least they gave a warning? Michel was sure that was the polite way to go about it.

He was still thinking about it as he knocked on the door to the women’s apartment, standing in front of the door awkwardly.

“Michel. What a surprise” Briala opened the door with an unamused expression but opened the door for him to come in anyway. “To what do we owe the pleasure at this hour?”

“I, uh… It’s my roommate…” Michel stuttered helplessly and followed the other to the living room.

“Of course it’s him” Briala rolled her eyes and flung herself down to the couch beside her girlfriend who looked up at Michel with a sympathetic smile.

“What happened?”

“Well, he…” Michel started as he collapsed into an armchair. “He brought back a man and…”

“And?” Briala hurried him, raising her eyebrows.

“They went into his room and… You know. And they got, um, pretty loud and it was just so awkward, I couldn’t stay…” Michel explained with a grimace.

The two women stared at him for a moment, then exchanged a strange look.

“What?” he scoffed at them, annoyed. He didn’t know what that look meant but he didn’t like it, that’s for damn sure.

“Not that I don’t understand why it was awkward, but-” Celene started, but Briala stopped her by putting a hand on her arm.

“I don’t think you should tell him” she told Celene, still giving Michel that weird look.

“But-” Celene started to protest, then looked at the still confused Michel and sighed. “Ah, you’re right.”

“What are you two talking about?” Michel asked, now very annoyed that he was left out of the conversation.

“Nothing. You can crash here for the night” Briala dismissed him and stood up, leaving towards the bedroom. “I’ll bring you a blanket and pillows.”

“What’s this about?” Michel turned to Celene who also stood up from the couch and switched off the TV.

“Nothing, Michel, really” Celene gave him a warm but pitiful look, and it managed to annoy Michel further. “Good night” she said as she left for her bedroom, too.

Briala came back a few moments later, threw the blanket and pillows on Michel, grinned at him in her annoying way, and left him alone. Michel felt like he made a horrible mistake by coming to them. With a sigh, he arranged the pillows on the couch, stripped to his boxers and T-shirt, and lay down. He couldn’t fall asleep for a long time after that, his thoughts kept him up. Briala and Celene’s odd behavior, and even Imshael and what had happened…

At the morning he woke up to being not so gently prodded. He grumbled and felt for a pillow to throw at whoever was picking on him so early in the morning – Briala, he was sure it was Briala – and opened his eyes to see where he would have to aim. He froze when he saw who was standing there.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” he sat up straight on the couch, staring at Imshael wide-eyed and pulled the blanket over himself.

“That’s a good question” Imshael shrugged as he sat down onto the couch by Michel’s legs, shoving them out of his way. “Celene called me to come get you. But you seem perfectly fine, you’re not even hangover.”

“Of course I’m not” Michel snorted. “It wasn’t me who went out to a bar last night and came back with some stranger-” he broke himself off quickly.

Oh.

Ooooh.

Shit.

“Yeah, well, that was what they told me, too” Imshael smirked at him with his usual smirk that promised nothing good and placed a hand on Michel’s thigh. “Jealous?”

“I- I’m not-” Michel stuttered helplessly and buried his face into his hands. Really? Of all the people, he had to feel like this about Imshael? “Shit.”

Although a lot of those driving-him-crazy thing made sense suddenly.

Imshael laughed at that and Michel felt him move closer, his hand inching up on his thigh and it made him gasp and look up into dark eyes that were suddenly too close to him. He forgot how to breathe for a long moment when he thought Imshael was going to kiss him right there and then, but he didn’t, he just looked at him, deep in thought, before pulling his hand back and getting up.

“Come on, get dressed and let’s get breakfast” he said as he walked towards the kitchen. He turned back from the doorway and gave him his usual smirk again and slowly looked over Michel. “Maybe we could even call it a date.”

Michel groaned in annoyance mixed with embarrassment and threw the pillow he was clutching at him. Imshael easily ducked it and laughed as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Yes, Michel hated Imshael for how he always managed to annoy him, how he always managed to make him lose his temper. But he loved him for it, too, in a weird way. It made no sense and yet it made perfect sense.

Michel sighed and got up to get dressed. A breakfast date sounded quite nice.


	13. Unexpected rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michel finds himself in a fight with two powerful demons. When cornered, he gets help in the most unexpected way.

It was a strange turn of events that Michel found himself in this situation. He was searching for a strong demon unleashed on this world and well, that definition might have been too loose for the Maker, because now he found himself face to face with a despair demon who happened to be accompanied by a terror demon, the both of them screeching at spotting him and aiming for him.

Michel was currently running from tree to tree, shielding himself from the icy spikes fired at him by the despair demon while he was also trying to keep his eyes out for the terror demon that had vanished a few seconds ago. He needed to get close to the despair demon first, he knew, but the damned thing shrieked and moved further away every time he approached. Michel cursed and looked for a way to it from his temporary shelter – he couldn’t just bolt for it, its ice powers were too great for that. He’d be dead before he took three steps. He needed to find a shielded path, otherwise he wasn’t going to leave this place alive.

Michel heard a screech just behind him and turned around just in time to see the demon’s claws strike down, aiming for him. He ducked quickly, the claws hitting the tree and ripping chunks of bark out of the tree where Michel’s face was a few moments ago, then threw himself to the ground and rolled to the side, to the shelter of the next tree. He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, cursing under his nose because the damned chest plate really pressed into his side, making it hard for him to breathe for a few seconds. He couldn’t exactly afford to waste time like that now.

The terror demon was walking towards him slowly, claws held up and ready to strike. Michel couldn’t see or hear the despair demon, which was bad, really bad, but he had to focus on the more urgent danger, the demon two feet away from him. He raised his sword in one hand, shield ready in the other, and prepared to engage. With another loud scream and a final step towards him, the terror demon struck. Michel held up his shield, an ugly, metallic noise emerging as the claws slipped down from it. But before the demon could prepare for another attack, Michel charged at him, slicing into the demon with his sword, driving the blade as deep as he could, then twisting it.

The demon wailed in pain, throwing its head back as it did so, and Michel used this brief pause to deliver another blow, cutting into its injured side again. The demon cried out again, then disappeared into the ground. The chevalier’s eyes immediately started to search the forest for the demon, but before he could see anything, he heard ice cackling beside him, as it was quickly forming, reaching towards him.

Michel knew it was too late as he turned towards the sound, the ice was coming too fast, but he was still determined to try to stand his ground against it. But as he raised his shield to try to block the ice, there was a figure between him and the demon, then there was a snap, and a wall of ice stopped the fast-approaching beam.

Michel stood there, rooted to spot, and stared up at Imshael with eyes wide open. He couldn’t believe it – this was a joke, a dream, a nightmare. It must be.

“Finish the other” Imshael ordered him, voice strict and focused, unlike his usual, playful tone. “I’ll take this one.”

Michel only nodded, his voice not obeying him, and went after the terror demon that appeared wailing a few feet away from him without a second thought. He realized belatedly his own stupidity in turning his back on Imshael, his naivety, but he was too focused on fighting to really care about it. Imshael didn’t seem to be an immediate danger and that was good enough for him.

The terror demon was still too busy with examining its wounds to notice Michel approach. The chevalier, of course, turned it to his own advantage. In two moves of his sword, the demon was lying dead on the ground, then within a few more seconds, its carcass had vanished back into the Fade. Michel was watching it disappear, panting and tired, when a voice spoke behind his back.

“That was close, you know.”

“Yeah” Michel said, then slowly turned around. He was unsure of this situation. There was no logical reason for Imshael to save him and let him go. Unless he didn’t plan on turning on him now, there was no logical reason for saving him at all. “I know. Um… Thank you?”

“You’re welcome” Imshael replied with a half-grin, his expression amused and smug.

Michel was still not sure what was going on. Fighting beside Imshael was certainly new… It was wrong. It was weird. And unbelievably thrilling. He knew what the logical thing, what the right thing would be right now… But he felt like he would rather invite Imshael to a beer right now than fight him. Wrong, Maker, it was so wrong. Good thing they were out in the wilds.

“Well, anyhow. That was fun” Imshael said as he slowly turned away from the chevalier and started walking away.

“Wait! That’s it? You’re leaving?” Michel called after him, eyes wide in surprise – he was prepared for many things this situation could have led to, but not this.

“Yes. As fun as this was, I do have other things to attend to” Imshael said and didn’t stop, but he did turn around. “Do try to not get yourself killed while I’m not looking” he added and blew Michel a kiss before disappearing.

Michel just stood there perplexed, blinking at nothing, trying to make some sense of what had just happened and convince himself that he was not blushing. Then he shook his head, stupid blush still on his cheeks, he knew, and began to walk back towards his camp. Maybe next time they meet he’ll get an explanation.


End file.
